


Play Pretend

by Zxhir



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, LGBTQ, Pretend, Valentines date, Zurena, putas ratas, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zxhir/pseuds/Zxhir
Summary: A short story, part of the Putas Ratas Valen-tie-me-up week, though this is soft more than anything else. 🤍Happy Valentines Day!https://open.spotify.com/track/71qNRlNDnPahvATE7Zl4Nw?si=OIXU09RSTb69RiN5E27wOA
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Play Pretend

It’s Sunday, the fourteenth of February, though Macarena prefers to pretend it isn’t. 

_ Valentine’s Day.  _

A day that she tries to forget every year since the last time she celebrated it was with Simón. She had spent the weekend at her brother’s, enjoying quality time with him and his wife, whom she hasn’t seen in over a year. She got to meet her niece and see their new apartment for the first time, and they had spent their days cooking, hiking, and playing board games… But the weekend has come to an end and the time has come for her to return to the caravan, in the middle of Valentine’s Day. 

She could stay, but she doesn’t want Zulema to be alone. Especially not today. 

When Maca opens the door to her portable home, the first thing she notices is that the caravan is unusually tidy and clean. There are candles lit all over the place and a little bowl filled with chocolates on the counter. Someone has definitely made an effort to make it look nice, and since it isn’t her, there’s only one other person it could be… 

But Zulema is nowhere to be found within the four walls. Instead, Maca finds a little note in the middle of the table between the couches. She folds it out and reads:

**Don’t eat the food in the fridge.**

She snorts. Not exactly what she expected to read, but she’s not really surprised either. It was a common thing for Zulema to say, but to write it on a note and put it on the table like some important letter was rather odd... 

She opens the fridge, expecting to find some leftover pasta from yesterday, but to her surprise, there’s some really well made and expensive looking sushi on the bottom shelf. There’s enough food for two, though, so why is she not allowed to eat it? 

_ Does Zulema have a date? _

An unfamiliar dull feeling, that she pretends not to feel, invades her chest momentarily, but there is another note atop the packages of food. It sparks something within her—curiosity—because there is something about this that makes her believe Zulema wanted her to find it.   
  


**No.**

Maca’s face drops in disappointment and the curiosity is immediately replaced with the jealousy she’s gotten into the habit of denying. She walks over to throw the notes in the trash when she notices an empty, heart shaped box among the garbage. Zulema had emptied it into a bowl and tried to hide the evidence because she hadn’t been able to stand the corny look of it.  _ Cute, _ she thinks for herself in the most petty, sarcastic way possible and slams the cabinet closed.   
  


Twenty minutes later, Maca has gotten comfortable on the couch and started comfort-eating the chocolate, when suddenly there is a knock on the door. Zulema never knocks, so the sound causes Maca to feel slightly paranoid, wondering who else would be out here in the middle of nowhere on a Sunday afternoon… 

“ _ Quién es? _ ” Maca raises her voice, making sure it can be heard through the wall.

_ “It’s me.” _ Zulema’s voice reveals. Maca frowns. Why doesn’t she just come in? She walks over and cracks the door open, slowly, as if she’s scared the brunette will pull a prank on her or try to scare her half to death. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

The sight that she is met by is nothing that she ever expected to see in her entire life. Zulema is all dressed up in a black dress that hugs all the right curves on her body, while over it she wears a bold leather jacket. It’s a classy look, but very  _ her _ . She wears a mild maroon color on her lips and instead of the characteristic teal khol that usually underlines her eyes, the color has been replaced with a simple, pitch black. Her hair looks the way it always does; ears shyly peeking out of her straightened waves of hair reaching just past her collar bones. Whoever she is about to meet is  _ lucky.  _

Maca is at a loss for words but Zulema doesn’t seem to be able to read her, because her big, painted eyes seem to still be searching her face for a reaction. 

”I know we both hate Valentine’s,” she says, voice like velvet to the blonde’s ears, ”but can I take you somewhere?” 

“ _ Me?”  _ Maca blurts out, not even trying to hide the surprise in her voice.

“No, the potted plant behind you.” Zulema mocks. Maca rolls her eyes. Then she frowns. Then she shakes her head. 

“What is all this?” She proceeds to ask while throwing a thumb over her shoulder, meaning the inside of their home. She’s clearly  _ very _ confused about the whole situation. 

“Do you like it?” Zulema asks, not answering her question, genuinely wanting to know if she got it right. 

“It’s… nice.” She admits and Zulema nods and offers her a brief smile, content with the approval. The blonde still doesn’t get it. 

“You’re acting as if you’re my date or something…” Maca continues, squirming slightly at her own words.

“We can pretend,” the brunette shrugs, pursing her lips, and proceeds to say something that Maca isn’t emotionally prepared for, “because I know you don’t have one and I’ve never had one before.” 

There’s a pause in the conversation. 

Maybe Zulema wants to try it out; test the waters of normality? She has never celebrated Valentine’s but figured it is something most people do, whether it’s romantic or platonic. She’s aware that it comes with a lot of cheesy, forced effort and disgustingly sweet actions; she’s heard about it and is clearly trying her best, despite being slightly allergic. 

“... Did you plan this? You look—” Eyes darting over at her rare appearance, “I mean you look different,” she manages to croak, pretending not to be affected by the way the outfit clings to the other woman’s body.

“Isn’t this what you’re supposed to look like on this day?” She shrugs and pulls on the tight fabric hugging her body while making a face. Maca chuckles, “I guess.” She shrugs. 

She’s not wrong. 

“ _ Venga,”  _ she suddenly urges, “Put something nice on before I start feeling even more ridiculous than I already am.” 

She flicks her hand in the air, gesturing for her to hurry up before she turns to the car but Maca just stands dumbfounded in the doorway, eyes indiscreetly tracing the brunette’s curves in the snug garment.

Zulema pretends not to notice. 

“ _ Ya!”  _ She yells, “and bring the sushi!” 

She is ripped from her current state of mind and shakes her thoughts out of her head as the older woman’s raised voice reaches her ears before she follows Zulema’s order and disappears back into the caravan to get changed. She isn’t really sure what she’s supposed to pick out of her little van closet. This isn’t a date, not a romantic one at least, she knows that they’re on the same page about that but it seems like Zulema wants to make the most out of it nonetheless. Perhaps to get to experience a cliché Valentine’s as accurately as possible… 

She can’t believe herself when she brings out the only dress she brought with her out to the caravan in case of a special occasion. It’s peach colored, feminine but elegant and definitely not something she would wear for just anyone. But hell, it’s just Zulema and besides, they've seen each other naked. Why would this be a big deal? 

She gets undressed and steps into the dress, surprisingly managing to pull the zipper in the back all the way up by herself before she heads into the cramped bathroom to do some light makeup. Not that she ever wore it heavy and it’s not like Zulema is going to care what she looks like anyway… She grabs the food and her jacket on the way out and makes her way over to the car.   
  


Zulema lifts her head in the direction of the caravan as something moves out the corner of her eye, catching her attention. The door flings open and her eyes suddenly grow wide in awe. 

She looks nothing like Zulema imagined a valentine to look like. Not that she expected her to, considering the little time she gave her to get ready. She isn’t dressed up from top to toe. She hasn’t fixed her hair or done her makeup perfectly. She hasn’t put much effort into her looks at all—yet she looks  _ effortlessly  _ beautiful and it makes Zulema reconsider the definition of ‘perfect’. 

She has left her curls natural and wild and her makeup soft, but enough to make her eyes pop. She’s wearing the same old leather jacket that she always wears but coincidentally, the brown matches her peach colored, midi-long dress perfectly. 

“Why have I never seen that dress before?” Zulema breathes and she almost sounds on the verge of being offended.

Maca is a little taken aback by the question. Why does she care? Not that she doesn’t appreciate that she apparently does, it just surprises her.

“... because I’ve never had a reason to wear it.” She replies, unsure of how to react. 

“You should wear it more often.” Zulema states and it’s probably the closest to a genuine compliment she has ever given her. Maca scoffs nervously,

“During a heist or around this caravan in the middle of the forest?” She mocks, trying to disguise the fact that she’s actually flattered. Zulema chuckles and the younger woman throws her a tender glance in response.

They arrive at a different part of the same woods they live in and the brunette stops the car when Maca least expects her to. They’re in the middle of nowhere; why would she stop here?

“Get out before I regret this,” She says as the engine has fallen silent. Maca throws her an eye. She’s resting her head back and seems anxious for some reason which Maca just can’t quite put her finger on. She is almost starting to get a little nervous herself, “and give me those,” the brunette stresses and snatches the sushi out of Maca’s hands. 

The younger woman cracks the door open and steps out on the grass below them. She looks around, but there’s nothing but trees and silence around them. She turns to the brunette to see her pointing at something behind her. Maca’s eyes follow. 

There’s a little path in between the trees. Hesitantly, she steps onto it and the older woman follows right behind. They only walk for a couple of minutes before the blonde’s steps come to an abrupt halt as she reaches the spot Zulema has urged her towards. 

“I know that this is stupid but it’s a stupid day too,  _ no?”  _

“ _ Zulema..?!”  _ Maca exclaims as the sight completely takes her breath away, “this is….!” she starts but ends up just shaking her head, at a loss for words. 

“It’s too much, I know,” she mumbles, “but I found this is the shit normal people do on valentines, according to Google  _ y…. Pinterest, o como se llame esa puto aplicación _ .” 

Maca walks over to the candlelit table in the middle of the flourishing green oasis. The sun has just set, and the darker it gets the more lanterns and fairy lights grow visible around them with their warm glow. Zulema puts the food on the table and watches Maca as she takes it all in. Her eyes are glimmering in the dim light, like a child’s in front of a big Christmas tree. 

”This is the shit  _ lovers  _ do on Valentine’s,  _ tonta… _ ” Maca laughs as she turns to meet the brunette’s knowing gaze.

“Again…” She purrs and presses play on her phone, making slow, mood setting jazz music dance out of the portable speaker, “we can pretend.”

“What?” Maca smiles, “that we’re in love?” 

“No,” Zulema states and walks over to take the blonde’s hand into her own. She shamelessly steps into her personal space and sets their little bubble in motion as she spins her around to the music. Maca’s smile fades into a somewhat nervous expression but she clearly isn’t opposed to the new kind of intimacy. The older woman wraps her arms around her from behind and leans in close, 

“Pretend that we are not. The way we’ve always done it.” 


End file.
